


Trailblazers, The Miscellaneous Archive

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson)



Series: The Six Paths of Tetsuki Kaiza [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays
Summary: (The collection of loosely related snippets and ficlets set in the Trailblazers 'verse. Originally posted on tumblr.)





	1. Word Prompt (D23): Diamond

This is the fifth store she’s walked into and  _nothing is right_. The salespeople all keep directing their comments at Hibari-senpai–sorry, _Kyouya-san_ –even though he continues to stay unhelpfully monosyllabic and grumpy.

 _She’s_ the one buying the ring, he’s only here to help her choose because as Tetsuya’s best friend he should know best, except he’s not even doing that.

Breathe, Tetsuki, she thought to herself. Giving one long sighing exhale, she reaffirmed why she was going through this.

She loved Tetsuya. They had been dating for almost ten years now. She didn’t want anyone else. She knew this, and he knew this–they just needed to make it official.

She’s not too sure why  _he_ hasn’t asked yet, but regardless that meant it was up to her now. She wanted to do this right: a ring, a nice dinner, flowers, but those were trappings don’t mean anything.

“Look, I need a ring.  _I_ do. Not him, me. I’m going to propose to the man that I love with or without one of your overpriced trinkets to put on his finger. Now either you help me or you say goodbye to my money.” She snaps at the salesperson, traces amount of Lightning Flames sparking at her hair and fingernails from her rage.

Needless to say, that certainly brought the attention back to her. But even with the salesperson’s stammering “helpfulness” she still couldn’t find anything.

After apologizing for misplaced anger, she left, Hibari– _Kyouya-san_ –followed her out silently. Now she just felt bad overall, no ring, taking out her frustrations on a mostly innocent salesperson, even dragging along Kyouya-san for what turned out to be a ridiculously unproductive day. Not even taking into account his rather uncharacteristic patience and willingness to come along.

“I don’t even know why I bothered. Those rings are useless. He wouldn’t even be able to wear it during work.” Considering they both worked for an Italian mafia, her more directly than him, their jobs were a little more hands on than the usual.

“Just get those hyper herbivores to make one.”

“… Haru?” That was… a pretty good idea, actually. Haru had designed her armor and wire-gauntets, she would know how to make something both practical and aesthetic. Tetsuya still preferred mundane methods to Flames, but he could use his (Rain affinity, not that big a surprise), and Haru did specialize in Flame-activated materials. Yes, this could work. It would be great, why didn’t she think of this earlier? Or for that matter–

“Why didn’t you say this earlier?”


	2. (2015-02-16) ficlet

The entire time she is running around for her life, trying not to get stabbed or electrocuted or bludgeoned to death, she has a mantra on repeat in her head.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

Usually when she is exercising or studying or any activity that requires focus, she listens to music. But she has the tendency to forget the lyrics to most songs except for a stanza or two, and she ends up repeating that verse in her head over and over again.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

It’s the same thing here. This fight isn’t all just physical, she has to strategize and predict, she has to have perfect control over herself, because she sure as hell doesn’t have any control over the situation or the environment.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

But while part of her brain is doing all that, keeping her alive, or trying to, there’s another part that would be drifting off and distracting her were it not for that mantra.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

And it’s not untrue. She hates that she’s even fighting. She hates that she’s probably going to lose. She hates her opponent. She hates that she’s been told not to use anything she’s already learned. She hates that they tried to make her learn a knew style in a week and wrote her off as dead when she failed to master it.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

She’s probably going to die. Her opponent isn’t one for mercy, and she’s shattered what little patience he has by dodging his first few blows. And with it, his mercy.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

But it’s better her than some child, she thinks, just barely pulling herself out of the way of a lightning bolt. The wires wrapped around her forearms are useless, despite her adequate ability to wield them. Her aikido knowledge is only helpful in close range.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

She can’t spare a glance at her friends and acquaintances, watching helplessly. Her night vision keeps getting shot anyway, with every flash of lightning. It’s okay, she doesn’t want to see them now. She doesn’t want _them_ to see _her_ now, either, but that’s rather low on the list of things she hates about this.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this._

If she’s going out, she’s going out as herself. Those lessons crammed in the past week, they don’t help so they don’t matter. She doesn’t have a bow, but it’s not like she has any physical arrows either. She’s just going to have to improvise.

**_Draw. Aim. Shoot._ **


	3. (2015-05-07) ficlet

When Tsunayoshi-kun (then, still Sawada-kun to her) finally, officially, and completely gains control of the famiglia he does what he had been vowing to do ever since he passed the boss trial. He destroys Vongola.

Of course, not quite in the way anyone had expected. Mukuro (then, and to this day, that bastard) was greatly disappointed. Barring Hayato-kun, who maintained that Tsunayoshi-kun could do no wrong, the rest of the tenth generation guardians didn’t fully understand how revolutionary Vongola’s Decimo truly was in the world of mafia.

She must admit, in the beginning, she had thought that he wouldn’t stick by his vow. She thought he had picked up where Nono had left off–increasing Vongola’s power through crime. She thought he was just perpetuating Reborn’s “might is right” philosophy, which had always made her hate him from the beginning.

Her doubts weren’t entirely unfounded: in the first three years of official Vongola Lightning Guardian tenure she went on over fifty assassination missions. She did them, of course, and she won’t deny that she was glad to have done them considering the total scumbags that she ended up killing. But it was disheartening; she had expected it, to be honest, but it was still disappointing.

Unlike Ryohei, she had walked into the role of Vongola Guardian with her eyes open. She knew that fighting that stupid ring battle was just the beginning of a slippery slope towards more violence, towards death. She had hoped it would be different, but she expected that her kouhai’s well-intentions would inevitably be suppressed under centuries of crime and sins.

It really had seemed that way in the beginning.

But a pattern began to emerge: missions were handed out with specific consequences in mind, there were more negotiations with certain famiglias, and less cooperation and tolerance for others. It was difficult for her to see, considering her specialty, but as her duties lessened she had the time and space to step back. To widen her perspective and see what was going on.

Tsunayoshi-kun’s… Vongola Decimo’s reign is the beginning of the end for the Vongola Famiglia of organized crime. It is the end for all mafia famiglia’s organized crime.

But she doesn’t really notice it until one day, three years in, Kyoko asks her to train the recruits.

“Doesn’t Yamamoto-kun do that?” She responds, because she and Takeshi-kun never particularly got along, especially not in the early days, and she tried to minimize tension by eschewing any opportunities of stepping on his toes. So to speak.

“Yes, yes, he’s very good at the more… permanent disarming,” Kyoko always did have a way with words, “But I don’t want my doctors to nearly kill their unruly patients to make treatment easier.”

“Your doctors?” She parrots, more confused rather than less.

“Well, I suppose technically they’re Shamal’s. But as if he can be pried away from his latest experimental disease, so all of the recruits really ought to be mine,” Kyoko says primly.

“What? Why do we need so many doctors and why do I need to train them?” Her observation and deductive skills really were much better when on assignment.

Kyoko just sighs, as if she were being difficult on purpose.

“I was in Scotland for the past month, I honestly don’t know what’s going on!” And the six weeks before that, Canada… which followed a week in Namimori. And that itself was a break after two months of tense and angry negotiations with the Orecchia famiglia culminating in absolutely nothing productive and her having to kill the entire negotiating party when they tried to, instead, torture the secrets of Vongola’s great and terrible power (their words) out of her. So no, at that point in time, she could safely say that she had no idea what Vongola would be doing with so many doctors.

“Shamal and I have been training Vongola doctors for the past eight months,” She says patiently, “I suppose I can’t fault you entirely for not knowing considering…” The deadly nature of her job, in direct contrast to Kyoko’s job of a distinctly opposite nature, “But it really is a better use for our resources. Having more doctors will improve the overall health of Italy, which will in turn improve the way of life. Oh, Hana-chan has the whole spiel, but it’s really in line with the direction Tsuna’s been going for Vongola.”

She’s about to argue, because she didn’t even know Tsunayoshi-kun was steering Vongola in a specific direction (much less one that Kyoko could sound so honestly excited and approving of) but she pauses. And thinks.

Because her time in Scotland, while ending in murder as usual, was aimed specifically at one of the Orecchia famiglia’s warehouses which they used to store, amongst various other contraband, cocaine. And the mission in Canada before that was to find and dismantle (permanently) the Orecchia famiglia’s human trafficking ring.

Like she said, a lot of her missions were ones she did with a song in her heart (all of those bastards deserved to die) but she had always thought it was more… self-servingly motivated than improving the way of life of Italy. She flushes with shame of having doubted Tsunayoshi-kun so much.

Kyoko, having known her for almost the full length of her life, probably knows what she’s thinking and yet stays silent.

“So… why me?” Because she’s the worst choice to train a bunch of healers how to save a life instead of… the opposite.

“Because,” Kyoko, still following the train of her thoughts, smiles soothingly and a little sadly, “I trust you, Nee-chan. You’re the one who taught me how to protect myself, in a way that wouldn’t hurt others.”

“That’s just aikido. You could teach them that easily. It’s been…” (a fucking long time,) “… a while since I’ve used aikido.”

Kyoko’s smile turns that little bit sadder, but instead of hashing out her honorary big sister’s serious damage in the middle of the hallway, she hooks their arms together and leads the two of them towards the laboratories, “Let’s discuss it some more over some cake. Lambo-kun brought back the most delicious raspberry chocolate cake, and Haru-chan and I have been eager to try it. Let’s see if we can’t pry her away from her latest inventions.”

“Girl time?” She quirks a brow.

“Yes!” Kyoko agrees, “It’ll be just like middle school.”


	4. (2015-05-17) ficlet

Kyoko is, as ever, efficient in drawing others to her cause–whether it be healing or partaking in pastries. Perhaps this case could be considered both.

With Vongola’s, and the mafia as a whole, decline in crime so too is there a decrease in the need for the bloodier missions. Though the few that remain had always gone to the Lightning Guardian.

From the beginning, ever since they had known each other as children, Tetsuki-nee-chan had always tried to step in place of someone else. To bear their suffering in their stead. It was the way she had been raised, Kyoko knew, scraps of affection in exchange for withstanding emotional abuse and neglect.

The Sasagawa family tried, of course, Nii-chan always being there for his best friend and even their parents, absent minded as they were, always reassuringly welcoming. But Kyoko could not have been happier when Tetsuki-nee-chan had finally decided to leave that toxic environment for good.

During her more tiring days, Kyoko sometimes daydreams of sending one of Shamal-shishou’s disease mosquitos to the Kaizas… one of the more fatal ones, maybe. Or perhaps something uniquely tailored to match–leprosy for Toichi, so concerned with physical appearances, and narcolepsy for Fuyuko who had always embodied stalwart strength.

But that is not what her patient needs. Though, true, her motives are a little bit more selfish than that: It has been over a year since she had seen her Nee-chan for anything other than medical necessities or a brief passing in the halls of Vongola Mansion. Kyoko misses her.

And, really, Tetsuki-nee-chan’s BMI is worryingly low. She really does need to put on more weight.

Haru-chan, usually so engrossed in whatever latest project the scientists of R&D present to her like childish drawings to a beloved kindergarten teacher, breaks into a wide smile at the sight of the two of them. And when Kyoko invites her for some cake, Haru-chan easily delegates what looks to be a truly fabulous gauntlet of some sort to one of her pouting minions.

“It’ll be just like middle school!” Haru-chan unknowingly echoes, clapping her hands in glee, “Ooh, let’s see if Hana-chan and Chrome-chan are free to join us! And Bianchi-san. Maybe the children, too?”

“I don’t think Fuuta-kun, I-pin-chan, and Lambo-kun would appreciate being called children anymore,” Tetsuki-nee-chan says wryly, but gamely follows both of their leads.

Surprisingly, all of them are at Vongola Mansion. Unsurprisingly, they drop whatever they are working on to join the impromptu tea party. Kyoko is not the only one who misses Tetsuki.

Which is good. It means she will not be the only one working on helping her patient. After all, every good doctor needs a good team behind her.


	5. (2015-07-08) ficlet

During one of their monthly cake eating gatherings (which Kyoko and Haru keep trying to make a weekly occurrence) the topic of box familiars came up. In particular, everyone’s box familiar’s names.

Unsurprisingly, Tetsuki named hers after archery, Yuzuru’s sinuous yet firm shape reminding her of a stringed bow. Haru’s Koushaku was certainly intimidating enough to be considered royalty, but the massive antlers and freaking tusks were more nightmare fuel than fairy tale prince. Kyoko’s kamaitachi were somehow collectively named Yakushi, after the god of healing, though they were three separate creatures. Although, when not in use at the clinic, they were a force of mischief and more often than not called ‘those damn weasels’ than their actual name.

The less said about Chrome’s box familiar–which might actually be Mukuro’s box familiar or, possibly, Mukuro himself–the better.

Hana refused to have a box familiar because, as she often ranted, having an animal manifest itself from some mystical energy within her was ridiculous and impossible and stupid. Hana wasn’t a nurturer and liked her solitude–whether to escape from idiots, children, or animals–so it wasn’t much of a surprise that she didn’t want a box familiar. But in theory, if she were to have one, it’d probably be named something like Momo or Fuku.

“So what you’re saying is, you want a pet goldfish,” Tetsuki asked with a raised brow, lightly teasing.

Hana, in a rare fit of immaturity, stuck her tongue out in response.

They moved onto discussing the others’ choice for their familiars’ names. Everyone agreed that Ryohei’s Kangaryuu was so obvious, but very typical of him. Takeshi’s Kojirou (and Jirou) likewise made sense, considering the historical sword-master was known for a technique named after a swallow. They were all rather confused as to why Hayato chose melon of all things to name his storm cat. As for Hibari-senpai’s hedgehog, a consensus could not be made on whether the name Roll should be attributed to his bluntness or his not-so-secret fondness for cute things.

Their discussion of box familiar names, which had the potential to go on forever, ended when Tsuna’s choice was brought up.

“I think it’s a nice name. Very poetic.” Tetsuki stated simply, appreciative of the symbolism involved in naming a sky lion after summer.

They stared at her incredulously. Kyoko’s lips were pressed tightly into a line to reign in her laughter. Haru wasn’t even bothering with that, curling her face into her arms, fists banging against the table as she snorted into her elbow. Chrome gently pressed both hands to her mouth, as if to ward off a scathing correction from the part of her mind that may or may not be Mukuro.

Hana, deciding to have mercy on her senpai, or perhaps to spare everyone second hand embarrassment, said, “Say the stupid lion’s name five times quickly.”

Confused, but unconcerned, Tetsuki did just that. “NatsuNaTsuNaTsunaTsunaTsu–Oh my god!” She shrieked her realization, “It’s just his own name backwards!”

At that, Kyoko couldn’t stop herself and burst out laughing alongside Haru whose guffaws gained a renewed strength. Chrome, shaking her head in sympathy, gently patted Tetsuki’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

Hana could only face palm, despairing at the other women around the table.


	6. (2015-12-29) ficlet

Kindergarten is a menagerie: small creatures running around screaming their lungs out. From the outset, the children are adorable–chubby cheeks and tiny hands and cute little uniforms–but as a student it’s a strange and scary prison.

Before this day, Tetsuki has never seen so many people, much less been expected to interact with them. It’s frightening. She can’t help but freeze up, keeping her distance from everyone with her back to the wall. She’s not going to cry, but her hands are clutching the front of her uniform for comfort.

She hopes there won’t be any wrinkles in the cloth–Okaa-san would be so disappointed.

The day passes in a haze of befuddlement and anxiety, but it ends soon enough. Fortunately, the parents of her classmates are quick to come and pick up their children and the school steadily empties. Unfortunately, Tetsuki can’t find her house keys.

The teachers look at her in concern, even though she’s not even crying or anything, but her searching has become more and more frantic. Her keys aren’t in the pockets of her uniform or in her sedate black school bag. Did she forget them at home? Or worse–did she lose them?

“Why are you crying? Are you sad?” a voice pipes up beside her, and Tetsuki startles away. One of the loudest boys in her class has breached her personal space and she hadn’t even notice.

“I’m not sad!” she says, because she’s frustrated and confused and frightened and, “and I’m not crying!” she adds.

Except she totally is.

The teachers, with less charges to keep track of, come near, uncertain as to the situation. They see a little girl crying and a little boy beside her and they are ready to interfere with what they perceive to be a fight.

Until, in the face of Tetsuki’s obvious upset state, the boy reaches over and grabs her.

“It’s a hug!” The boy corrects, “Hugs make everything better.”

Tetsuki is uncertain, but she hugs him back. The teachers leave them to it, though they do keep an eye out.

The boy keeps his hold on her the entire time and doesn’t say anything about the damp patch of tears undoubtedly forming on his uniform.

“Ryohei!” a woman’s voice calls out, and without letting go, the boy hugging Tetsuki calls back, “Here!”

It takes both Sasagawa-san and the teachers to make the two of them let go–and Ryohei only agrees after his mother promises that Tetsuki can come home with them. It doesn’t take much convincing, once Tetsuki admits that neither of her parents are in the country this week.

And this is how Tetsuki and Ryohei become best friends for life.


	7. (2016-01-06) ficlet - Stolen Thunder

The thing about the Ten Year Bazooka is that it pulls a person from a future, not **_the_** future. There are branches in the universe, and while the time space continuum is elastic, there still exist some limitations. That is why the Ten Year Bazooka has such a short usage, and why it doesn’t have a high demand.

For most members of the mafia, being switched with a decade older version of themselves wasn’t an advantage, especially if there was no timeline specific intel to be reaped. Ten years later would mean ten years passed their prime–slower reflexes and aching injuries, the casualties of age–or worse: dead.

And so the Ten Year Bazooka was a novelty, an interesting gadget at most. The kind of thing one would show off at a science convention, not use in actual combat.

Unless you are a child. To a child, ten years is a lot. Ten years means a bigger body and greater knowledge, it means being taken seriously. As a person, as a threat. As a Guardian.

Lambo knows a lot about being dismissed. It’s been that way his entire life. Indulged but ultimately ignored by the Bovino family, barely tolerated and relegated to the side by Vongola–a child trying to play catch up with teenagers, a teenager trying to stand his ground among grown ups. Lambo’s existence has always been one of almost but not quite enough.

But at least it was never so literally.

“Tetsuki Kaiza,” Lambo murmurs to himself, five minutes after a past version of himself used the bazooka, sending a teenager to deal with consequences of his childish temper tantrum. Instead he found a girl who defended him from Reborn’s irritation, a girl with green Lightning flames sparking at her fingertips, a Vongola Guardian ring on a chain around her neck.

A girl, he finds out later, who does not exist in this world.

Or, rather, existed only for a short time.

He researches–this timeline is thankfully peaceful, and so he has the opportunity–and tracks down the girl who would have been Lightning Guardian to a cemetery outside Namimori. Japanese gravestones do not have dates on them, but they do have names: the deceased, of course, and in bright, living red, their still living family members.

It’s telling that the two names in red are above the one that brought Lambo here–parents, Fuyuko and Toichi.

The caretaker has been in charge of this cemetery for years–definitely over two decades–and has a keen memory. He’s also talkative, more so with a tidy sum of cash, and has no problem telling even a foreign teenager about the sad story of little Tetsuki Kaiza.

Little Tetsuki Kaiza who had been kidnapped after her first day of kindergarten and held hostage by the yakuza for two weeks before finally being killed. Apparently, her parents hadn’t paid the ransom.

Supposedly, they hadn’t even been in the country to receive the demands.

Fuyuko Kaiza was a professor of some sort–constantly invited overseas for lectures–while Taichi had been a popular athlete; or an actor, maybe a musician. He’d been something popular. Back then, anyway. Both of them terribly successful in their careers, until their terrifying failure as parents came to light.

Of course, they’d tried to salvage what they could. Bought a nice gravestone, made large donations towards Namimori’s police force which had undergone a shocked, upheaval of their own. Little Tetsuki Kaiza, such a sad story.

Lambo thanks the man, even though his throat is sour with a whirlwind of thoughts.

Maybe that’s why three seemingly civilian teenagers from a tiny town in Japan would become Guardian’s of the strongest mafia family in the world. An entire generation of school kids shaped into weapons. Protect yourself, because adults can fail. Become strong, so as not to become prey. Don’t end up like Tetsuki Kaiza.

“Yasuraka ni nemure,” Lambo says to the gravestone of a little girl twenty years dead, “Riposi in pace,” he says to the lost, potential Lightning Guardian.

This timeline is peaceful, true, but Lambo is mafioso born and bred–Family is important, dead or alive. He has at least two people upon whom he can enact revenge and a lead for more to follow.

Maybe his fellow Guardians will want to join him.


	8. (2016-01-11) ficlet

Kaiza-senpai and Yamamoto don’t get along, but not the same way Yamamoto and Gokudera don’t get along. It’s not words thrown like dynamite and smiles like a sword, it’s not arguments face to face but fighting back to back. It’s not a thin layer of teasing and irritation over a foundation of mutual understanding and trust.

For Kaiza-senpai and Yamamoto it’s a little bit jealousy and some awkwardness and a persistent, unavoidable uneasiness. They are warped reflections of each other, and frankly, they just don’t like each other.

Of course, they don’t actively dislike each other either–not like how Hibari-senpai and Mukuro go at each other like starving dogs, teeth and blood and bone-deep rage–but it’s a distinct lack of fondness. An absence of even trying to get along that makes it so strange.

And yet…

“Don’t call him that,” Kaiza-senpai says, sharp and cold–and not the shallow way Tsuna had always considered her, Kyoko-chan’s scary, austere almost sister–something pure and true and threatening. Promising.

Reborn, however, was scared of nothing and would probably call the Grim Reaper and amateur, “Oh?” he asks, eyebrow raising, as if to say what are you going to do about it.

Yamamoto is frozen, smile pulled tight over his face, unsure but patient.

“No one is a natural born killer,” she continues, unafraid, “That phrase is stupid.”

If Kaiza-senpai wasn’t fond Yamamoto, then she absolutely hated Reborn.


	9. (2016-01-12) ficlet

After an hour of waiting and no sign of her friends, Tetsuki leaves a note, grabs her go-bag, and uses the Ten Year Bazooka on herself.

She comes to underwater. The cold and wet is a shock to her system and she immediately gasps and regrets it. Her clothes–chosen for durability and warmth–are dragging at her limbs, and even though her bag is heavy she keeps a tight grip on it. Gravity, even limited, reasserts itself and she kicks upward–spluttering when she breaches the surface.

Coughing and blinking and shivering, she makes her way to the shore of what appears to be the river running through Namimori. She recognizes the bridge vaguely, even from this new angle. For a few moments, she stays where she is, relishing the feel of solid ground, before shakily making her way to her feet. Her friends aren’t going to find themselves.

She hopes they had a better start than she did.

—

Tetsuki wanders around the ghost town that Namimori has become. Wandering is the incorrect word–what she does is nowhere as nonchalant as that–she sneaks and sidles and skitters around. The streets are empty and the buildings stand like skeletons devoid of the flesh and blood of living people.

She doesn’t know what day it is, or even the specific time of day, but the sun is up–if filtered and grey through a persistent layer of clouds–and yet, nobody. If it were the middle of the night she’d understand; although even then there would usually be the occasional late-night returnees, or a few Disciplinary Committee members on patrol. There is only stillness and silence.

The chill down her spine has very little to do with the river water still dripping from her clothes and hair. It’s as if she’s all alone in the world and it’s creeping her out.

She can’t find her friends. She can’t find anyone.

Someone finds her instead.

—

The Sasagawa siblings, upon seeing her, jump up and pull her into a rather painful, extremely damp three-way hug. Her hair ends up caught in the zipper of Ryohei’s jacket and Kyoko accidentally bites her shoulder. So, really, not all that much different than when they were children.

Haru-chan tuts at her wet clothes, but leans in close enough for a sideways hug of her own. Lambo-chan adds moisture of his own by gripping her leg and bawling–she absently pets his hair and ignores the fact that there is probably snot mixed in with his tears. The older boys and Chrome keep their distance, but they appear to be relieved to see her: Gokudera-kun’s shoulders visibly relax, and Hibari-senpai even offers her a nod of acknowledgement.

“Something’s wrong,” she says, because that much is obvious. It’s been almost an hour since she’s used the bazooka, longer for her friends. The effects are only supposed to last five minutes, they should’ve switched back home already.

None of them respond. Verbally, at least. Ryohei’s face shutters into blankness and by his side, Kyoko twitches. The others are very careful not to move.

“Something’s wrong,” she repeats, reading the signs around her, “… with me?”

Only Tsuna meets her eyes.


	10. Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold (2016-01-18) [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some Daily Life / before Kokuyo Arc ficlets
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal)

When she goes to the convenience store that Wednesday evening, like she does every other Wednesday evening, Kusakabe-senpai is already there waiting patiently.

It’s not like he has to wait for her to patrol, she doesn’t help much. For all that he says Wednesday nights are the Committee’s busiest except for weekends, usually these evenings are just the two of them strolling around Namimori sharing snacks.

They talk, sometimes, he makes her smile and she likes to think she does the same for him. Not that they’re dates! Of course not, they’re just friends–barely acquaintances, really.

Considering his best friend is Hibari-senpai, and she can’t imagine Hibari-senpai idly chatting as he hunts for troublesome herbivores in his territory, he probably just enjoys the change of pace. He’s just being kind, that’s all.

“Are your parents fighting again?”

He’s just letting her tag along because he think she has nowhere else to go. Or he thinks it’s better to keep a potential miscreant in his line of sight to prevent troublemaking. She’s pretty sure Ryohei’s on a list for known disturbers of the peace and her as well for being his aider and abetter.

“No… I think they’re both in Europe now, actually.”

“You think?”

“Well, I mean. I know my mother’s still in Berlin for a conference, but my father might be in either London or New York. He doesn’t like to stay in one place for too long.”

“Ah…”

She’s flushed. How embarrassing, just throwing out unnecessary information like that.

“Taiyaki?”

Those are her favorite, Kusakabe-senpai is so nice.

“Yes, please.”

The taiyaki shop along their route is supposed to close soon, but they’ve come so often that the owner tends to stay open just a little bit longer when he sees them coming by.

—

“Hibari-senpai knows? Oh my god, that means Kusakabe-senpai definitely knows!”

“Oi! You don’t know that!”

“Are you kidding me? Hibari-san has the social awareness of a hedgehog. No offense to hedgehogs.”

“That is extremely true!”

“How embarrassing, Kusakabe-senpai has probably just been pitying me this entire time.”

“You are overreacting to the extreme! Maybe he extremely likes you back!”

“Don’t shout it to the world, Ryohei!”


	11. Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold (2016-01-18) [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a Varia Arc ficlet
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal)

When she enters the Sawada household for the first time, she is not happy: not with what she sees and not with herself.

In the middle of the living room floor is Sawada Iemitsu, passed out drunk in only his boxers. Sawada Nana looks resigned, but ignores his body with a determination that would be admirable applied to anything else; the only give away is the slight wrinkle in her forehead as she smiles.

Sawada-kun, though… Tetsuki’s angry at herself, but this isn’t about her. This is about the kid who she clearly doesn’t know enough about, but will be risking her life to fight beside.

“Kaiza-senpai, w-what are you doing here?” He’s pained to see her, only because he’s starkly aware of the spectacle in his living room. The corners of his eyes are tense, for all that they’re wide with surprise. Rather than his usual twitchiness, his hands clench and unclench into fists. He’s not embarrassed, not like his mother. He’s angry.

To judge you, she doesn’t say, to figure out if you are worth my life and Ryohei’s life and Lambo’s life and your friends’ lives.

“To take you and the kids out for a little bit of fun. Ryohei extremely forgot to ask you and your friends if you wanted to join us, and he and Kyoko are still getting ready,” Or at least, that’s what Ryohei better say after he receives the text message she’ll send as soon as Sawada-kun turns his back, “Are Yamamoto-kun and Gokudera-kun free today? I know they’ve been training pretty hard, too. Where are Fuuta, I-pin, and Lambo?”

“Aah, I don’t know. I’ll call and ask them. And the kids are upstairs,” as far away from his drunken father as possible, he doesn’t need to add.

“Please excuse me, Sawada-kun,” she murmurs to him as she goes upstairs without permission. Meanwhile, she shoots off a quick text to Kyoko, because Ryohei never checks his phone and the best way to get a message to him is to send it to Kyoko.

The set up of the second floor is simple enough to guess where the kids are, but the high voices ringing out from behind one door helps.

She knocks, and the voices immediately hush, so she calls out, “Hello? It’s Tetsuki, the rest of us are going to…” have to think of something “… the park and for a fun day out,” The door opens to show three eager faces, “and I wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”

“What kind of fun day?” Lambo demands, yelling over I-pin’s quiet but cheerful greeting, while Fuuta apologizes. “Sorry, we thought you were Sawada-san… um, Iemitsu-san.”

“That’s okay, Fuuta-kun” Smart kid, “Well, I’m not sure yet, Lambo-kun, but we can all decide together at the park.”

“Shouldn’t you be training? The Ring Battles are important,” Damn Reborn. She can feel her shoulders tense from just his voice and it doesn’t go away even when she spots him in his hammock.

“Taking a break can be beneficial, we need time to rest. Otherwise we’ll be too tired when we fight for our lives,” She tries not to glare at him, because that would just be asking for trouble, but something must show on her face because he just smirks, the smug little jerk, and flips his fedora down.

“Gokudera and Yamamoto said they’ll meet us at the park in thirty minutes,” Tsuna edges his way into the room as well, Fuuta’s smile growing.

“Is everyone ready to go?” Because she’d prefer not to stay here for much longer.


	12. Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold (2016-01-18) [3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a Millefiore Arc ficlet
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal)

It’s late in the night, possibly very early morning; she hasn’t been able to tell for days now since they’ve been cooped up in the base. Not that it matters, really, only the children have kept a regular sleeping schedule. There’s too much training and planning and worrying to do.

She finds Ryohei easily enough, he hasn’t left the gym except for meals. Even then, Kyoko has to drag him out.

No one else is there, but seeing as how all of the guardians–their future selves, this is so messed up–seemingly have their own designated areas, that wasn’t unexpected. What is surprising is that he’s not doing anything but sitting against the wall, listing sideways, almost about to fall.

Or perhaps not so surprisingly. Even Ryohei needs to rest every so often.

He’s not asleep, she knows, but his eyes are closed and he’s quiet. So she doesn’t say anything, just sits down next to him, tucking herself into his side so that they can lean against each other.

Immediately she can feel the line of warmth where they connect; the base isn’t cold, but in the circumstances this is comforting and familiar. Just the two of them, Ryohei and Tetsuki, just like always.

“Hey, Tetsuki?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’m extremely tired.”

And she knows what he means. He’s not talking about being out of energy, or needing sleep. He’s tired. He wants to give up but he knows he can’t because Kyoko’s here and Tsuna’s here and all the other kids and he can’t give up because they’re still fighting and even if they give up he still has to keep fighting because that’s guardians do. That’s what older siblings do.

She knows this because she knows him and she feels the exact same way. It makes her want to cry, because if Ryohei’s tired–inexhaustible, sunny, spirited, Ryohei–then she’s left adrift.

“Hey, Ryohei?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m absolutely terrified.”

It’s true. She walked into this expecting something terrible and got so much worse. They’re at a disadvantage and she doesn’t even know what game they’re being forced to play, much less the rules. She doesn’t know if they can do this.

He doesn’t call her out on it, though, doesn’t try to convince her not to be scared. She wonders if that confession means the same to him as his did to her.

They stay silent for the longest time, the two of them simply sitting there. She closes her eyes, too, for just a moment, leans further into Ryohei and feels him do the same back.

They must have fallen asleep because she wakes up in a bed with Ryohei’s elbow digging into her kidneys and Kyoko curled around her right arm, cutting off the circulation.

There is a reason why they haven’t slept together since she and Ryohei were eight and that is because she always ends up the bruised and achey filling in a Sasagawa sandwich. It was cute and tolerable when they were little but now they, even Kyoko, have been doing some serious training and Tetsuki’s body does not appreciate this.

She’s smiling anyways.


	13. Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold (2016-01-18) [4]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an "Epilogue Arc" ficlet
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal)

Even though predictability kills, in the case of Boss delegating certain duties and missions to his guardians, it makes things more efficient.

Hayato, right hand man that he is, almost never gets sent on anything that will last more than a week unless Tsuna himself is going as well. He oversees everyone else, the finances, the engineering departments.

Takeshi, as the not-really-a-title left hand man, similarly stays close to Tsuna as well, though he’ll occasionally be sent on month-long missions alongside some of the non-guardian Vongola members. It’s funny seeing grown men defer to a teenager–he likes to think of himself as their coach.

Kyouya-san, based in Namimori and head of his entirely autonomous Foundation, rarely takes orders from Tsuna anyway, but he sends in reports on activities and locations like clockwork. If occasionally, there is something that Tsuna needs doing where he is then so be it, it will be done efficiently and completely.

Ryohei, in contrast, is usually the muscle to Kyoko and Haru and Hana’s more diplomatic missions–usually it’s safe, but there’s always a chance that things will turn for the worse, and for all that he’s a total goofball his muscles and scars make him the most physically intimidating guardian they have.

Chrome, and by extension Mukuro, are always assigned the long-term infiltration and undercover missions and, occasionally, the more subtle assassinations; all things that require patience, attention to detail, and the ability to change appearances.

The less subtle assassinations go to the Varia whenever possible: they want them, Tsuna doesn’t want his guardians to do them, everyone’s as happy as can be expected when an enemy group becomes a subordinate one. But sometimes, that’s not an option.

Less subtle assassinations in the sense that, it’s clear it was on behalf of Vongola, not that the death is highly publicized for all the world to know. Tetsuki sneaks in close, gets near, just as quietly as the Mist guardians do, it’s the aftermath that makes things obvious.

People don’t expect a young Japanese woman to be an Italian mafia’s hitwoman: her body is short and thin, they pass off her ring and her delicate wire gauntlets as accessories, her bow as an archaic hobby, the box small and harmless like herself. Her hair isn’t even a passing thought, obviously long because of aesthetics, not because lightning flames can harden and sharpen it into a makeshift blade.

But when she’s done, and the body is discovered hours or days or, one time, even weeks after she’s already left, they’ll see the electric burns, the bruises, the puncture wounds, the cuts. That’s Vongola, they’ll know.

She gets other missions, too. Teams up with Ryohei often enough for these, or gets sent to where Kyouya-san and the Foundation are.

On the outset, they don’t seem all that different from Kyoko and Haru and Hana’s missions: negotiations with obvious muscle (or in Kyouya-san’s case, lethality) in the background. But there’s just that little bit more added tension, a lack of flexibility that marks these as distinctly meant for her and not the other girls.

Her negotiations never require the skill or intelligence their’s do for one simple fact: if the terms she’s been sent with aren’t met, she’s to kill them.

If the other families bothered to differentiate between Vongola’s Japanese girls, they’d know to give in whenever Tetsuki is sent. As it is, their inability to research properly or see past whatever sexist, racist, ageist bigotry is blinding them means they never see it coming when their refusal leads to their deaths.

Missions relegated to her are not so common, the Vongola rarely has to show it’s strength in such ways even if the Decimo is young and Japanese and new. She knows Tsuna hates giving these to her, just as she knows that if it’s not her then it would be Takeshi and she knows who Tsuna would choose between the two of them.

For all that he’s a natural born killer according to Reborn (fuck Reborn, killers are made not born and he dragged all of them into it) he’s still just a teenager. He’s killed before, yes, but that’s always been in self-defense or in defense of someone else, on the rare chances when his missions get snafued. He can’t even drink alcohol legally in his home country (she can’t either, but that’s hardly the point).

It’s strange that so much of her life is the way it is because she keeps taking the place of younger boys who shouldn’t have to go through what she is.

This makes her look like a martyr, so selfless. It’s actually quite the opposite.

She is so selfish, she’s still so scared the people she loves will leave her, by choice or by death. She doesn’t want to mourn them, she’d rather they mourned her.

She’s not broken, but she certainly isn’t whole and healthy despite the Sasagawa influence in her life. She’s a flower, twisted and vibrant and all the more poisonous from lack of proper care. If it didn’t rankle so much to talk to him, she’d know that Reborn considers her an excellent Vongola resource: an adept killer not born to it but collecting and polishing skills throughout her life.

She’d probably agree, if the thought of doing so didn’t annoy her even more.


	14. Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold (2016-01-19)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an "Epilogue Arc" ficlet
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal)

She wouldn’t say she’s surprised, but she is still sometimes confused on how well she fits into the Vongola Family. Considering her own background… well. While she was lucky to have the Sasagawas, in truth it was mostly her clinging onto Ryohei and Kyoko as best as she could. She was content and never really reached for more because she never really wanted more. But Vongola is different. Family is different.

For all that she loves (and is loved by) Tetsuya, mutually fond of members of the Disciplinary Committee (now the Foundation), and tolerated by Kyouya-san, she knows that her presence there is something of a distraction if not a disruption. Even on the occasions when she gives a few weeks’ heads up or when it’s for an official Vongola mission.

They are distinctly Kyouya-san’s followers–her fellow Guardian has never liked crowding or sharing. They are to her what friendly in-laws are to normal people, pleasant but not Family.

She’s not on missions very often, the nature of them becoming less and less frequent the more Tsuna changes both his Family and the mafia world entirely, but she’s still not an integral part of the daily routine. That’s what Tsuna and Hayato are for.

It’s weird, though, for her to be in the mansion and not try to help out in some way. She kept her childhood house immaculate, and mostly fended for herself, but in the Vongola mansion there are servants. Servants who are probably better trained than many countries’ military, but servants nonetheless. And with her being so high in the Vongola hierarchy (a Guardian is second only to the Boss) they refuse to let her do some of the mundane things like do her own laundry or cook her own food or fix her own bed…

Actually, they looked somewhat insulted when she first attempted to do so. It was baffling until Hayato explained that she was implying she didn’t trust them–it was as if she suspected they were traitors and would poison her things.

Since then she lets the servants do their jobs, but makes sure to be as cordial as possible. She’s never been particularly sociable but she’s pretty sure they like her better than Mukuro–who almost could not be creepy and patronizing if he were paid to do so–or even Ryohei who, while well-meaning, is practically a living wrecking ball. She knows the construction workers like her simply due to the number of commiserating looks they’ve all shared (she buys them fruit baskets every time she knows Ryohei has broken some piece of furniture or some part of the house).

Even including that, most of her interaction with Vongola Family’s non-Guardians is still with Kyoko and Haru. But they’re both fairly high up in the hierarchy of Vongola as well, and far busier than she is–Kyoko is second in command of the Vongola medics. More like the one truly in charge, because Shamal, while brilliant, always was more of a lone wolf than a leader. Of course, under Kyoko’s eye the Vongola Medical Corps have become a highly-lauded entity in its own right due to sheer competency.

Haru, similarly, has grown into her talents to the benefit of herself and Vongola. Technically she is the Family’s CFO–something which causes her and Hayato to quarrel with each other so regularly that other members of the Family know when it’s the first Thursday of the month by the yelling and explosions and high pitched laughing and, strangely, singing and piano playing.

But she gets bored easily, as many of her accountant underlings can attest to, and anyway her true passion has always lain elsewhere. The engineers, while nominally under the purview of Shouichi and Spanner, have also been conditioned to obey Haru’s whims.


	15. Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold (2016-01-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an "Epilogue Arc" ficlet
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal)

Their wedding is a beautiful one.

Not perfect, no, not at all, but beautiful nonetheless. It’s the first wedding amongst the tenth Vongola generation so it’s somewhat more political than they’d prefer, being obligated to invite allied Family members, but it helps that most of them are friends anyway.

The number of guests, though, means that the Foundation members not out on missions have to function as security–though Tetsuya has been calling them all ushers, even the ones with sniper rifles positioned on the rooftops of adjacent buildings–but they seem happy with it, glad to be there in person rather than wait for the video to be put together. She still can hardly believe how fond of her they are, calling her Ane-san even though she’s younger than most of them.

It’s a western-style wedding, but it’s held in Namimori. For all that they both work for the Italian mafia, they wouldn’t even consider marrying anywhere else. Kyouya-san wouldn’t let them, even if it does mean many of their guests have to travel halfway around the world. Kyouya-san is paying for the wedding after all.

Well, sort of. The caterer and florist are both Namimori-born; when Kyouya-san was mentioned, they offered their services for free. For different reasons: the caterers know who really runs Namimori and would never dare insult him while, apparently, the florists are huge fans of the Hibari manor gardens.

Her dress was made by Haru, of course, and even though she rejected Spanner’s attempts to mechanize it, Tetsuki’s pretty sure there’s still a layer of Flame reactive armor sewn in. Haru’s gotten better at subtlety, though, or perhaps Kyoko intervened because it’s not overly flashy or frilly or have anything overtly odd like wings. She even made a little bow-tie for Yuzuru, which is most likely also made out of Flame reactive metal.

Lambo’s the ring-bearer, even though he claimed he’s too old–but he was easy enough to trick when Kyoko told him how important the ring was in a wedding. How the ring-bearer is more like a ring-guardian. He’s almost electrocuted three guests already, but even in her flower girl dress, I-pin is just as quick as ever to stop him while Kyoko soothes things over with the almost victims.

With all that she’s been doing behind the scenes, Kyoko probably should have been her maid of honor, but she just smiled and said she liked the first choice better. She’s still a bridesmaid, of course, along with Haru and Chrome, but her best friend has always been Ryohei. He’s her man of honor–it’s not traditional, no, but neither of them really care–and he’s walking her down the aisle.

He cried when she asked him to, and she just huffed at him and asked who else did he think she’d consider; honestly Ryohei, even though he’s the Boss, Tsuna’s still so nervous about the strangest things.

If Kyouya-san hated crowds even a little bit less, he would have been Tetsuya’s best man. She knows he’s watching from somewhere, but she hasn’t actually seen him, just Tsuna’s increasingly twitchy eye that means he is around and possibly challenging guests and allies to fights or he and Mukuro are causing possible structural damage to the church.

As it is, Romario-san is the best man, which is fortunate because he’ll be near the center of attention and that means Chiavarone tripping and breaking something won’t be. Although, they’ve been suspiciously scanning the grounds for what she suspects is a missing Enzio. If that turtle ends up interrupting the wedding she won’t be the only one, or even the first one, in line to strangle Chiavarone.

That dubious honor goes to Fuuta and Bianchi. Who are looking over everything in a meticulous and exceedingly crazed manner–they’re the wedding planners, an odd, somewhat worrying, but surprisingly effective partnership which has made even Kyouya-san concede in a few wedding decisions (she and Tetsuya hadn’t even tried).

They’re both wearing tastefully simple silver domino masks, which means Fuuta’s doing so out of solidarity or they have really been hanging around each other for too long and have fused into some sort of hive-mind. It’s not exactly the weirdest thing to happen in their lives.

It’s all beautiful. Ridiculous and mad, of course, and nothing like perfect, but it’s beautiful.

She can’t do this.


	16. (2016-12-09) ficlet

It doesn’t snow at Vongola HQ, southern Italy blessed with the Mediterranean climate, but winters are still cold enough that she feels it in the night.

Tetsuki has a room in Vongola HQ, elegantly decorated with classic furniture and soft green fabrics. She doesn’t like it.

She’s not ungrateful: It is a nice room, and she likes having a space that is designated hers–traveling so often and to so many different locales means that she spends most of the year in hotel rooms or makeshift bases in warehouses.

But she’s here so infrequently that it doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t help that Tetsuya is in Namimori.

The bed is comfortable, with smooth linens that feel nice on her skin and a duvet heavy enough to feel grounded under.

But it’s so big and even with all the pillows and blankets piled around her in a nest, it feels… lonely. Cold. Empty.

She’s had enough of that feeling for a lifetime.

It’s a couple minutes passed one in the morning, but the beast that is Vongola HQ doesn’t really sleep, hallways lowly lit. One of the house staff glances at her oddly, a slouching mass of pillows and blankets, but they bow respectfully when she waves them away.

Ryohei’s room is only a few doors down from hers.

—

In the morning, she eases out from her cocoon, taking care not to rustle either of her bedmates.

Remaining bedmates, at least, when she takes count–finding only Hana’s dark tangle of bedhead and the very tips of Kyoko’s light brown hair poking out of her own blanket cocoon.

Ryohei must have woken up already; like her, still accustomed to early morning hours of high school athletes.

But unlike before, when she actually needed to prepare for her day, being one of Vongola’s elite Guardians means she doesn’t have to prepare meals for the day or clean up the house. But she’s awake and she’s not going to be able to go back to sleep any time soon.

She takes one of the multitude of blankets, wrapping it around herself, before excusing herself from the room in silence.

In the hallway, she meets Yamamoto and feels flat-footed.

—

In nearly a decade of being Guardians, Tetsuki and Yamamoto have maybe had seven conversations with just the two of them. Of those, she walked away from at most three of them without hating him just a little more.

She’d say it’s bizarre, except she knows exactly why she doesn’t like him. And she’s pretty sure she knows why he doesn’t like her.

It’s fine, she supposes. Not all Guardians get along. At least they’re not like Kyouya-senpai and fucking Mukuro, better off continents apart. She and Yamamoto are functional, if not friends, and so long as everything stays professional, they’re fine.

Barefoot in pajamas is not professional.

And of course Yamamoto is dressed for the day, suit and tie and sword on his back.

It’s not as if she’s threatened–no Guardian is ever truly unarmed–but between the two of them, she honestly doesn’t know which of them would win in a fight. They’ve never had a need to test it, and for her sparring has always been a more congenial activity: if they ever fight, it’ll be for real.

“Kaiza-senpai,” Yamamoto says, smile plastered on his face.

Tetsuki doesn’t even bother to pretend with one of her own, “Yamamoto-kun.”

She doesn’t bother with grandstanding, turns and walks away, more than happy to leave it at that.

Except, apparently, Yamamoto has more to say, tone light but words biting, “Does Kusakabe-senpai know that you sleep in another man’s bed?”

—

She doesn’t take joy in her work. It’s a part of life that she does as efficiently as possible and sets aside when she’s done.

It’s not a job to be proud of, either. Though she won’t go as far as to say it is completely dishonorable: there are some people who should die–she is the one who disposes of the trash.

She’s good at it–through practice and skill, not some bullshit natural talent–and apparently in the ranking of hitmen she’s somewhere near the top. Assassination doesn’t exactly put a song in her heart…

… but she will straight up murder Yamamoto, Rain Guardian or no.

Her fingertips spark, green flashing in her peripheral vision; her Flames have always been activated by anger.

“Repeat that,” Tetsuki says. I dare you, her glare adds.

Yamamoto’s head tilts, stupid smile still on his face. His hand hasn’t gone to his weapon, but he’s standing, poised to move, “Does Kusakabe-senpai know that you–”

“Yes,” she interrupts, answer thrown down like a gauntlet.

He looks honestly surprised.

“My fiancé does know I sleep in my best friend’s bed at night,” she continues, blood still thrumming with rage, “I get cold at night and I like falling asleep with other people in the same bed. Tetsuya knows because I told him. Because I tell him everything.

"And I’m not, as you seem to be poorly trying to imply here, cheating on Tetsuya. Because unlike you, I’m not afraid of my fucking emotions, or sharing them with the man I love,” the words shoot out of her like bullets, and are just as effective given the look on Yamamoto’s face.

Just to petty, she finishes it off with, “Hayato-kun had a very nice date last weekend, did you know?”

It’s her turn to be ready as Yamamoto’s eyes turn into frost.


	17. (2017-10-03) ficlet

She doesn’t remember what the mission had been–unsurprising given how many years-deaths-hours have passed–but she does know it was dangerous. Deadly. Terribly so.

Boss had sent his three most powerful–most lethal–Guardians on this mission, even despite the hostilities between two of them. Despite the high probability that Kyoua-senpai and fucking Mukuro would rather turn on each other than fight beside each other.

She doesn’t think she was sent as a mediating force–if so, then what a poor choice!–but rather as the only one who would survive if it came down to that.

It hadn’t, oddly enough.

But she hadn’t survived the mission, anyway.

///

When Tetsuki returns to Vongola HQ–Hibari departing for Namimori immediately and Mukuro almost literally disappearing into mist–she is quiet.

It’s not so concerning–Tetsuki isn’t one for talking, not in comparison to the Sasagawa siblings–but a week passes and no one can recall speaking to her.

This is only the beginning.

///

The problem is that she would trust any of the Guardians with her life–even Yamamoto (though, perhaps, less than fucking Mukuro as odd as that seems.)

Being Family does not mean friendship, it means blood and trust despite the lack. She can fight alongside any of her fellow Guardians without a second thought because she knows, if they can, they will fight for her life nearly as much as she will fight for theirs.

She trusts them with her life.

She doesn’t trust any of them with her death.

Kyouya-senpai is possessive, Mukuro beyond normal human mores, and at the end she had been voiceless.

She didn’t have a choice.

///

Tetsuki doesn’t open the door. Not for the Boss, not for Kyoko, not even for Ryohei.

Hayato respects her far too much to disintegrate the walls (never mind that the Vongola HQ steward would murder him if he did so) but he’s just cunning enough to slip a mobile phone into her room which rings and rings and rings with everyone trying to check on her.

She zaps it after a day.

But it works, sort of.

The door opens.

///

They mean well, of course they do. They’re just as kind as she remembered them; nostalgia and decades of distance hadn’t changed too much, it seems.

She’s not the same person she was days–lifetimes–ago.

She’s mourning.

She’s scared.

She’s furious.

She’s not ready.

///

The person–people–who leave Tetsuki’s room are not anyone Vongola has ever seen.

Their fashion is strange, their weapons stranger, and they look around HQ with curious, wondrous eyes.

They also close the door behind them and do not let anyone pass.

“She’s not ready yet,” says the blonde man with bright blue eyes. One hand scratches almost nervously at his marked cheek; the other has the fried phone.

Kyoko pockets it to hand over to Haru later–she and her engineering minions will take it as a challenge, no doubt–and decides to roll with the punches. She asks, “Do you know when she’ll be ready?”

This time, a woman with pink hair answers, stepping forward. “No, I’m sorry, but she wanted you all to know that she appreciates your concern and she’d like for us to share our knowledge. For example, I understand you’re a healer? So am I. My name is Sakura Haruno.”

///

There’s a part of her that wonders if it was all in her mind, no new scars or wrinkles on her skin, the same as she was before everything. She was so young then–this is the oldest she’s ever been–she had no idea what a lifetime really meant. What death really means.

She’s not the same person she was before.

She’s far more than that.


	18. (2017-10-04) ficlet

Hibari’s report–if such a brief statement can be considered such–is punctual but useless. As per usual.

“The herbivores tried to fight back. They were bitten to death.”

Of the three Guardians he sent on the mission, Tetsuki-senpai is the most professional. Normally, she can be depended on for a comprehensive report.

Obviously, that is not the case.

Tsuna wrinkles his nose at the thought. It sounds so detached, so very much like a mafia boss and not the head of a Family. There is a difference, one he strives to stay on the correct side of.

He is worried about Tetsuki-senpai, of course, something is clearly wrong–but it is not his place to stand outside her door, cajoling.

He sent her on that mission. He is responsible for her pain.

///

There is creature comfort in staying curled under the covers in the dark. Wallowing.

It’s not really healing so much as pressing against her wounds and letting the muffled pain echo back at her.

But for now she allows herself this.

Well. Her conscious does.

Her subconscious, not so much.

Komadori enters, unhindered by the barrier because he is, in truth, only a part of her. Still he carries a tray of food and switches on the lamp desk.

It is not so bright–only a small radius, focused downwards instead of out–but it still sears her retinas, blinking away streaks of non-color.

“This is the reverse of what you used to do,” he admonishes lightly, helplessly. “Are you still trying to remember?”

He does not approach the bed, does not even look at it, and so she slouches from beneath the blankets towards him.

There is a small smile on his face: Komadori had always been overly indulgent of her.

“Remembering is not the problem. I have too many memories now. They want the Tetsuki from before all of this, before you and the others and everything I went through.”

“So, what, instead of remembering you’re purging?” he asks. If it were Naruto, it’d be loud, aggressive and provoking, an instinctive frustrated answer. But it’s Komadori, and so she eats and ponders and he lets her.

“Even if I could,” she begins, turning away back to bed. This admission will take more of her meager reserves than she can afford, “I wouldn’t erase what I went through. I just need… more time.”


	19. (2017-10-10) ficlet

On the sixth evening, Naruto is the one who brings her meal.

“It’s almost a week, you know?” he says, confrontational but kind in his strange way.

“Are you bored already?” she shoots back, drawing her eyes up from the papers spread across her desk. She hastily clears a space for the tray Naruto has brought her, no doubt mixing up the order, but better that than food stains making things illegible.

She’s writing down her memoirs.

He shrugs, broth sloshing dangerously at the lip of the bowl. Ramen, unsurprising. She smiles.

“Not really,” he answers, “it’s nice being able to meet your precious people. They care about you a lot.”

For a moment, he lets the statement rest in the silence, stretch long and full across the room.

“Are you going to bring Kakashi-sensei?”

She glances at him, thrown off guard–that’s not what she had been expecting at all.

Her first, instinctual reaction is denial–defensive and sneering–why would she ever do that? If she hasn’t already, clearly she’s not planning to.

But Naruto wouldn’t have said it if it didn’t mean something, and for all his deference to her in battle he always was, in his own way, much wiser than her. She had always thought he’d be a great Sky.

Like the summoning of her friends, the papers beneath her hands are memoirs as she thinks would be best–not a journal transcribing every little thing she did, a mission report across reincarnations–but a way for her to attain closure.

They may not have been close–or, at least, in the ways that mattered, in the ways they could have been, her feelings of him conflicted and twisted and tangled up, respect and betrayal and feeble hope, blood and grudges and mistakes versus trust–but he was important to her, to the life she had and the person she had once been.

“Tomorrow,” she says, finally, staring down at the pages beneath her hand, “It’ll be finished tomorrow.”

///

The stranger that eels out of Tetsuki’s room on the seventh morning is like a plastic potted plant, really. Taking up space quietly and awkwardly in each room he visits, out of place but not so much as to require attention. A vague, monochrome blur in everyone’s peripheral vision.

Unlike the others that Tetsuki had sent out in her stead–even the surly pale-eyed man who has been making Kyoko’s army of minions all the more hyper competent and frightening–he doesn’t seem to want to interact with anyone at all. He drifts; not as if searching for something, but the way a tumbleweed drifts, aimless and useless and never belonging. Never catching on something to do or someone to talk to…

… until he meets Reborn.

Family does not mean friendship.


	20. (2017-12-24) ficlet

Their romance is nothing like a fairy tale–too steeped in the violence of their work–but it’s real and true and everything Tetsuki wants.

She marries a good man, solid and stable, who makes her feel like she can be a good woman, too, if she just wills it.

Every kiss from Tetsuya makes her feel like the heroine of her very own story.

—

She loves Komadori, but not the way he hopes for–still, he is dear to her, and her to him, and it is difficult to be vulnerable in a world of war.

She reaches out, accepting his touch, and lets the intimacy speak for her.

He is a good man; it’s unfortunate Tetsuki isn’t the right woman.

—

Their’s is a lost connection, a hypothetical disaster in the making.

Azula would as soon kiss her as she would gouge her eyes out–they would surely destroy each other.

Maybe, in another life, Tetsuki would even let her try.

—

Love is soft and sweet again, no longer the clawing desperate creature, thread-like bonds gentle yet firm:

Tetsuki doesn’t need to say how important Maya is when her actions have already done so, words have never been how she communicates with Hiei, and it’s mostly a joke when she threatens to shave off the fox’s hair.

—

Tetsuki gets used to poison kisses, everything growing green around her; she’s lightheaded from giddiness as much as the toxins, luxuriating in the sensation.

Or maybe it’s the sound of machinery, oil streaked across her skin; or the view of the stars from outside the atmosphere, breathless but not suffocating.

Now she’s a heroine in more than just feeling.


	21. (2018-02-02) ficlet

Hana is the third strongest Cloud of Namimori.

Knowing that fact is about as awful a sensation as one might imagine–not that she even cares about the stupid colored fire stuff that all the monkeys keep throwing around… but still.

Being third best at anything is one of the worst feelings ever.

—

Her manifestation was subtle, a matter of details and quirks in contrast to the full blown phenomenon of Hibari.

She never ran out of pens or spare change or other little items, never tired during gym class for all that she wasn’t one for exercise.

She had one friend–Kyoko–and that was all she needed. More than that, she was confident she was all Kyoko needed, though she would yield to Kaiza-senpai’s stronger, prior claim whenever an overlap arose.

She’d much rather attribute it to her own rational and respectful nature than the bullshit “subconscious deference to a more powerful person” but given magical colored fire does exist… well.

Kaiza-senpai–Tetsuki-san now that they are coworkers and nearly family through the transitive property of convoluted bonds that is being close to the Sasagawas–is technically the second strongest Cloud of Namimori.

A side effect of being primarily Lightning natured: any development in her Cloud abilities were overlaid by Lightning, averting the issue of Cloud territorialism and dominance.

Lucky. Not even Kaiza-senpai would have stood a chance against Hibari.

—

Hana isn’t particularly keen on learning how to use a gun–she’s a lawyer for god’s sake! Sure, she followed Kyoko to Italy and has resigned herself to a lifetime of dragging the Monkey Boss out of legal problems to keep her best friend happy, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to embrace their, frankly, ludicrous lifestyle.

But that awful not-baby insists, and both of the Sasagawas make sad, worried faces at her–at the idea of her not being prepared, not being protected–and so she gives in.

She’s not the sharpest shooter, but accuracy isn’t all that important when she can just riddle the target with an endless amount of unstoppable bullets.

—

Hana is the third strongest Cloud of Namimori.

Namimori is known for producing titans of Sky Flames.

Despite herself, Hana is one of them, too.


	22. Ask Box Things You Said, anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part of the [Ask Box Things You Said event](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533413)
> 
> "Trailblazers, 10YL, tetsuki+sasagawa sibs, 32) things you said I wouldn’t understand"

Ryohei doesn’t let himself get distracted for long, despite how fun it is to spar with these strangers. He returns to wait in the hallway outside Tetsuki’s door, patient, if neither silent nor still.

He chatters at the door, exercising all the while–at first shadowboxing on his own, then drills with equipment as the Vongola staff catch on and set up the space for him. While unusual and against the aesthetics of the mansions, they do so without asking. Partially because Ryohei is one of the elite Guardians, but mostly because he is one of the nicest and they are fond of him.

And so Ryohei waits, because while he may not be as stubborn as Tetsuki, he’s equally as skilled at persevering.

Kyoko is the one that seeks out answers, handing the supervision of the medics over to Shamal who complains even though it’s his job. And anyway, the stranger that Tetsuki-nee-chan has sent out–Sakura-san, the healer–is doing an excellent job at showcasing new techniques to keep them busy.

Plus, Tetsuki is both family and Family; there aren’t many who are due as high priority.

She calls Kusakabe-senpai first. Mostly because even if Hibari-senpai had a phone–which she highly doubts–he certainly would never answer a call with it. A few minutes of polite small talk and careful maneuvering around the topic of Tetsuki and she finally gets connected to Hibari-senpai.

“What happened on that mission?” Kyoko demands, steamrolling over Hibari-senpai’s less than pleased greeting, “She won’t leave her room and she’s not letting anyone else in and she keeps… making strangers to send out in her place. As if that’s what we wanted instead of her to be okay!” She finishes in a frustrated shout before immediately shutting her mouth–Hibari-senpai might not be that hard-headed violent teenager anymore, but he certainly wouldn’t appreciate such disrespect.

Her frustration isn’t at him, anyway. Not really at Tetsuki-nee-chan either. Perhaps it’s not frustration at all, just concern.

Silence reigns on the other end of the line and for a moment, Kyoko thinks that perhaps Hibari-senpai has hung up or simply walked away from the phone letting the call run through, until he belatedly answers, “Ask the pineapple.”

Another silence reigns, Kyoko waiting for more, prepared to outlast Hibari-senpai–he Sasagawas can be patient in regards to important matters–when finally, reluctantly, Hibari-senpai asks, “Should I send Tetsu?”

Kyoko can easily imagine the fierce scowl on his face, but the offer to send his second in command away for an unknown length of time only shows how worried he is for Tetsuki-nee-chan as well.

“No, not yet. Kusakabe-senpai can stay with you for now. I’ll call again if–”

The dial tone plays back to her. Kyoko huffs, irritated, but internally acknowledges that probably was the best outcome for this call.

Really the only reason why she tried Hibari-senpai first despite the unlikely odds of it working is because he’s easier to find. Getting in contact with Mukuro is going to be a greater challenge. Alas, such is the way of Mists–never mind she herself partially has that very flame type.

The chain goes as such: Kyoko asks Fuuta-kun–main handler for Vongola’s Guardians–who connects her with Chikusa and Ken, who still act as bodyguards for Chrome, who then consults with Fran and, eventually, somehow sends a message Mukuro.

It’s about a month, all told, for Mukuro to respond, appearing in Vongola Mansion and acting as if he weren’t the most infuriating person Kyoko has ever had to deal with–especially when Tetsuki has yet to come out of room, sending out more and more strangers as the weeks pass.

By the time Mukuro arrives, both of the Sasagawa siblings are chomping at the bit, held back only by the thought that Mukuro might be able to help Tetsuki. So when they ask him what happened, neither of them are in the right headspace to comprehend his answer.

“She died,” he says with an almost careless shrug, eyeing the door where his fellow Guardian hides. “But she’s always had a small flicker of Mist Flames, so I was able to ensure she would come back.”

“You saved her life?” Ryohei asks, hopeful, almost thankful to Mukuro, not understanding. Kyoko stays quiet, because surely there’s more.

“No she definitely died,” Mukuro answers, almost laughing. When he turns to face them properly, his red eye practically glows, the six all the darker for it, “And then I sent her off to die five more times.”


End file.
